RMYI/IES IN KHAKI 




FRANK B.CAMP 



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RHYMES IN KHAKI 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 



F. B. CAMP 

AUTHOR OP 
"MEXICAN BORDER BALIiADs" 
'AMERICAN SOLDIER BALLADs" 




THE CORNHILL COMPANY 

BOSTON 






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COPTBIGHT, 1918 

The CoBNHiid. Company 



MAR 2Q 1919 

©CI.A5127i3 



THIS BOOK IS INSCBIBED 

TO MY FRIENDS,— 

THE REAL MEN AND THE REAL WOMEN 

WHOSE FRIENDSHIP 

I HAVE LEARNED TO VALUE ABOVE ALL WORLDLY THINGS; 

WOMEN AND MEN OF THE BIG CITIES AND THE SMALL 

TOWNS; WOMEN AND MEN OF THE BIG OUTDOORS 

THOSE FROM THE LAND OF THE DESERT AND 

THOSE FROM THE LAND OP THE BIG TREES 

AND SNOW-CAPPED MOUNTAINS; TO THE 

SINCERE AND NATURAL MEN AND 

WOMEN OF GOD'S BIG WORLD. 



FOREWORD 

The life of man I liken unto a book, — each 
page representing the days he lives and on those 
pages, beginning with the day of his birth, are 
written those things which bring joy and happi- 
ness, sorrow and grief, and sunshine and rain into 
his life. Each page is written in a language that 
only he understands ; it contains an indestructible 
record, of both joyful and sorrowful happenings 
that are known to him as the RED LETTER 
DAYS of his life. 

It is from the red letter pages of my life that 
I have selected the material for this little book, 
feeling that I have touched upon the living pages 
in the life of every real man. 

Love and hate, longing and yearning, ambition 
and desire, failure and success, — all are a part 
of the life of every man. I believe that every 
incident touched upon in this book is but a re- 
flection of thoughts and emotions that are com- 
mon to all. 

F. B. C. 



Contents 



Page 

Spring in the Northland 1 

To Jim, Who Died in France 3 

The Pipe Creek Trail 6 

Memories That Never Die 9 

Doing My Bit 11 

The Gold Service Star and the Sister ... 14 

When Wilt Thou.? 17 

Alone, Forgotten, and Broke 18 

The Bark of a Dog 19 

The Springtime Rain 22 

A Vision of the Past 24 

The Lost Watek-Hole and the Hidden Trail . 25 

The Human Forest 28 

"Old Dave" 29 

The Grave of Caribou Joe 32 

The Dead Packhorse 34 

Ages and Ages Ago 37 

To Amt 38 

The Shadow 39 

To Paddt W 41 

To Mildred's Etes 42 

Boy O'Mine 43 

Conflicting Calls 45 

Flickering Shadows on the Wall 46 

A Dream 47 

What Is — Is 49 

To Grace B 51 

The North West's Voice 52 

To the Allied Soldiers "Over There" .... 54 

Dedicated to Quentin Roosevelt 55 

The Roads of the World 57 

A Talk with My Better Self 59 

Can You Blame a Man for Doubting.'' .61 

I Must 63 

The East Wind's Voice . 64 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 



SPRING IN THE NORTHLAND 

The Chinook wind was blowing through the 

gulches on the hills ; 
You could hear the tapping, rapping, of the early 

whip-poor-wills ; 
All the mountain streams torrential, through the 

forests madly whirled. 
And Spring was chasing Winter, with her banners 

all unfurled. 

The big blue grouse were booming, 'mongst the 

jack-pines on a log. 
And the white-tail deer were wading in the 

steaming meadow bog ; 
You could hear the squirrels chatter and the 

blue-jays loudly scold. 
For the air came warm and balmy when Old 

Winter lost its hold. 

The chickadees were happy and the bear were 
on the hills 

1 



2 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

And the mountain trout were leaping from the 

riffles and the rills ; 
'Twas Springtime in the Northland, in the land 

of Big Out-Doors, 
The Chinook wind was blowing on kind Nature's 

woodland floors. 

The new bunch grass was growing where the 
cattle frisked and played. 

While the wind among the tree tops, gently mur- 
mured as they swayed ; 

The sky was clear as crystal, and I offered up a 
prayer. 

And thanked the Lord for living, on that Spring- 
time morning rare. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 



TO JIM, WHO DIED IN FRANCE 

Jim was a no-good son-of-a-gun, back in his own 
home town ; 

For years he'd hit the toboggan slide, always 
sliding down ; 

Shiftless he was and lacked the will to do any- 
thing worth while ; 

And all he had when the big war came, was the 
ghost of a human smile. 

Drunk in the morning, drunk at night, drunk 

whenever he could. 
All that was bad in Jim's make-up had smothered 

the spark of good ; 
Now I don't mean to say it had killed the spark, 

so it never would burn again, 
But just that the spark was awfully faint, like 

an ember soaked with the rain. 

Yet like the ember soaked in the rain, the spark 

in his heart still burned. 
And whenever the rain of evil ceased, the glow in 

the heart returned. 
The booze was the evil spirit of Jim, and it had 

caused his fall. 
Till the heart, the body, and brain of him had 

all grown weak and smaU. 



4 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

Thus was Jim when war broke out and the day 

of the draft had come, 
When the mighty legions of Uncle Sam were 

mustered to fife and drum. 
When the nation had listed its fighting men, 

from twenty- to thirty-one. 
To fight the war of Democracy, and rid the world 

of the Hun. 

Jim, who was just past twenty-four, listed his 

age and name. 
Not that he cared to soldier and fight or win 

undying fame ; 
But because he was sober for that one day, — 

sober and able to think, — 
So he took the pen with the other men and wrote 

down his name with ink. 

"Jim H , American, twenty-four and a reck- 
less son-of-a-gtin." 

Ready to go with a million more and battle with 
any Hun, — 

Drunk or sober, ready to fight booze and the 
Kaiser too. 

They called him a no-good son-of-a-gun, but the 
heart of the lad was true. 

Sergeant Jim of the bombing squad, — six months 

in an army camp, — 
That was the title tacked on him, when the orders 

came to tramp. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 5 

Jim with a thousand soldiers or more, of every 

listing and sort, 
Sailed one day on a transport gray and arrived 

at a big French port. 

From the port they marched to a battle trench, 

supporting the ranks of the fighting French, 
Raided the Boche one starry night, fought like 

the devil with all their might. 
Jim, with a dozen or maybe more, was covered 

with glory — as well as with gore — 
When a dum-dum hit him straight on the head, 

— j ust a dum-dum bullet, — and Jim was dead ! 

Jim was a no-good son-of-a-gim six months before 

he died, — 
He'd ridden for years on the downward path of 

Fate's toboggan slide ; 
But he died like a man, in the fighting van, for 

the country that gave him birth. 
And the battle he won, while fighting the Hun, 

established his rating and worth. 

The grave where he lies, 'neath the sunny French 

skies, is one of a million more. 
On the cross, snowy white, were these words 

that I write, "Jim H , age twenty-four. 

Bombardier Company, U. S. A., killed in action, 

second of May, fighting the German horde." 
He sure was a man who fought in the van. After 

all I guess Jim scored ! 



6 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

THE PIPE CREEK TRAIL 

The old days, the old trail, to Pipe Creek leading. 
The old hills and the deer in the meadows feeding. 
Rumbling thunder in the hills, vivid lightning 

flashing, 
I can see the old creek's rills and the water 

splashing. 

Visions of the days of yore call me, always plead- 
ing; 

Paddy dear, it's Pipe Creek's roar and you that 
I am needing. 

To chase the blues and bring content and make 
of me a laddie. 

Oh, the days I spent with you on Pipe Creek, 
Paddy ! 

It's the old days, the old trail, that in my memory 

looms. 
The Big Trees, the Shiny Fish, the House of 

Many Rooms, 
The hikes we took together, 'mongst the pines 

and tamarack. 
And Your gentle voice seems calling, "Billy, 

won't you please come back." 

The old days, the old trail, the Pipe Creek that 

I love. 
Are calling to me, Paddy, as a dove calls to a dove. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 7 

I want the snow-capped mountains, the wild 

things and the woods. 
The Big Out-Doors and freedom, the Springtime 

rain and floods. 

I hate the towns and cities with their artificial 

glare. 
And the shallow, two-faced people, who really do 

not care 
For the real things, the big things, that God has 

put on earth, — 
I detest their shallow pleasures; in their joy I 

find but dearth. 

I have danced and dined with many, in the city's 

maelstrom strife. 
Till I saw and then I sickened, with the aimless, 

shallow life. 
Then, Paddy girl, I left it, with its many, many 

iUs, 
And sought a life of freedom, in your land of trees 

and hills. 

Years passed and I was happy, then our country 

needed men. 
So I joined the U. S. Army, in this awful 

slaughter pen. 
I've a million fighting brothers and I've been 

here most a year. 
In this Hell of screeching shrapnel, with your 

memory, Paddy dear. 



8 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

The shells and rockets breaking take me back 

across the seas 
Where the thunderstorms are playing in the 

mountains 'mongst the trees, 
And the raiding parties 'mind me of the deer we 

used to stalk, 
On the hillsides in the evenings, when we hardly 

dared to talk. 
And now the old Trail's calling, always louder 

every day. 
And the land where you are living calls me back 

again to stay. 
In the Big Out-Doors of Nature, where the sky 

is bright and blue. 
To Pipe Creek and the cabin, to the mountains 

and to you ! 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 



MEMORIES THAT NEVER DIE 

Note. Men from the North West country of the United 
States and Canada are fighting in France for that freedom 
which their lives spent in God's Big Out-Doors has taught 
them to be the most wonderful thing in the world. 

I was in the first line trenches. 

Where the air is filled with stenches, — 

Grim stenches of the battle-field and gas. 

I could hear the shrapnel whine, 

I could see the star flares shine, 

And the crumpled forms of soldiers on the grass. 

I could hear the whispered mumble 

Of the Poilus, and the grumble 

Of a dozen husky youngsters gripping guns. 

As we waited for the order. 

That would send us 'cross the border. 

For another awful wallop at the Huns. 

And while waiting I was dreaming 

Of a land where life was teeming 

With the Big Things, that are all of sterling 

worth, — 
The Mountains, Trees, and Prairies, 
The Wild Things, — yes — and Fairies, — 
And the North West that is called the pride of 

Earth. 

To that far and distant land, — 
Oh, that they could understand ! — 



10 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

I journeyed with my thoughts that awful day ; 

Again I knelt and drank. 

From the shady, mossy bank. 

Of a mountain stream that babbled on its way. 

I climbed the mountains high. 

To their snow tips near the sky, 

And I gazed upon the valley far below. 

Where I saw a winding river. 

All agleam and all aquiver, 

With the brightest rays of sunshine, all aglow. 

I heard the constant droning 

Of the North wind always moaning, 

As it played among the tall and monster trees. 

And the faint but steady thrumming 

Of a pheasant that was drumming 

Was wafted to my ears upon the breeze. 

I heard a wolf a-wailing. 

And I saw an eagle sailing 

Far above me in the clear and azure sky ; 

Then I heard a crash like thunder, 

And I knew that I was under 

A big shell that exploded passing by. 

Passing by, passing by. 
They were always passing by, 
They were tearing up the earth. 
They were lighting up the sky. 
They had wiped the North West vision 
From my strained and tearful eye. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 11 

DOING MY BIT 

They turned me down for service 'cause my leg 

was on the bum. 
They put me in this office where the tickers buzz 

and hum. 
They took me from the open and caged me in 

this pen. 
To do my bit for War time with a thousand other 

men. 

But I've heard the summer thunder in my ears 
the livelong day ; 

I have seen the lightning flashing on the hills 
across the way ; 

I have heard the bull moose calling and the boom- 
ing of the grouse. 

And I've sat before the fireplace, in my little old 
log house. 

I've been hunting on the ridges, where the huckle- 
berries grow 

And the mountain sheep are playing in the ever- 
lasting snow ; 

Where the big black bear is feasting on the luscious 
mountain fruit. 

And the shadows of deep purple fill the canyons 
near the butte. 

I've been fishing in the rivers where the moun- 
tain trout abide ; 



12 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

I've been swimming in its waters that flow to 

meet the tide; 
I have trapped the mink, the martin, the beaver; 

and the rest. 
And have seen again the sunsets on old Mother. 

Nature's breast. 

The fool hen and the pheasant I have jumped 

along the trail, 
I have heard the South wind sighing and the 

North wind loudly wail; 
I've thrown the diamond hitches, with the pack 

straps pulling tight. 
And I've paddled weary journeys in my birch 

canoe at night. 

I have cruised among the timber with never 

trail or track ; 
I have carried sixty pounds of grub upon my 

aching back ; 
I've climbed the steepest mountain peaks, ten 

thousand feet or more ; 
I've slept at night among the trees on Mother 

Nature's floor. 

I've trailed the pesky white-tail, the elk, and 

caribou ; 
I've shot a hundred wolves or more and drilled 

them through and through ; 
I've skied and snow-shoed many miles, I've 

walked the crust and then 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 13 

Had such a feast of mulligan, thought I'd never 
eat again. ^ 

I've swung the double-bitted axe, I've made the 
cross-cut sing. 

And with the Springtime drive of logs I've also 
had my fling ; 

I've fought the raging forest fire with fifty other 
men. 

But now I'm fighting Germans — with a pencil 
and a pen ; 

And while fighting, have these visions that I 
always love the best, — 

Of God's Big Land and Mountains, in the dis- 
tant old North West. 



14 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



THE GOLD SERVICE STAR AND THE 
SISTER 

Never star in heaven high 
Shone so brightly to my eye. 
As the star I saw to-day, 
In the window 'cross the way. 
All the lustre it contained 
From the field of battle drained. 
All the brightness of a soul. 
On the nation's honor roll. 
Bade my footsteps cease to lag. 
When I saw that Service Flag, 
With its Star of Shining Gold, 
And knew the story that it told. 
Of a youth who gave his all, 
When he answered to the Call. 



I was in that West Front Hell 
Midst the bursting, shrieking shell, 
Where the star lights brightly flare. 
Where the rockets burst in air ; 
Where machine guns shoot till hot, 
'Gainst the " Huns " of " Me und Gott. 
I could hear the shrapnel hop, 
I could see him cross The Top, 
I could see him as he died. 
His face alight with love and pride. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 15 

For mother, sister, country, all, — 
For the Great Cause saw him fall, — 
Fighting 'gainst a thing of Hate 
To decide his country's fate. 

From the Star my eyes then strayed 

'Till they rested on the maid, — 

The sister of the man who died, — 

She was smiling, but sad eyed ; 

In those eyes I saw a light 

Of joyful pride that shone so bright 

It made them twinkle from afar. 

And shine as brightly as the Star, 

A grief for him who bravely died 

Was mingled with that joyful pride. 

And the thought of all he gave 

Had changed the laughing eyes to grave ; 

True womanhood, — with eyes alight, — 

Like yon Star that shines so bright ! 

My sister, when the Great Cause has been won, 
Then you can say "'twas hard to have him go/' 
His grave is made beneath an alien sun. 
With honor marked, where tender breezes blow. 
But now, — no time for tears, — just deeds 
Of glorious sacrifice for you and yours. 
You will be brave for your dear mother's needs, 
Dry eyed, you hear the call, your strength endures. 
You've had your years together, — they are past, 



16 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

And memories dear lie close witllin your heart. 
And while you cherish them until the last. 
Remember that you too must do your part. 
And when the war is won and men are free. 
Then your dear eyes, that burned with hidden 

fires. 
May shed their tears, and you will plainly see 
The peace and truth, not dreams, of your desires. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 17 



WHEN WILT THOU? 

O tiny attic room wherein 

My daily life is spent, 

When wilt thou cease to close me in 

And leave the sky my tent ? 

O little table where I write 
My songs when work is done. 
When wilt thou turn to greenest sod 
Beneath the shining sun ? 

O little bed wherein I sleep 

And dream outside the bars. 

When wilt thou change to Mother Earth 

Beneath the lonely stars ? 

O little life of narrow things, 

Lived on a narrow strand. 

When wilt thou let my freed soul roam 

In God's big Out-Door Land. 



18 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



ALONE, FORGOTTEN, AND BROKE 

Alone, forgotten, broke, and it's raining. 
Ye gods ! can you ask why I'm complaining ? 
To be all alone in this big, old world 
Is enough, with the banners of Hope all furled. 
To be also forgotten, deserted, and broke 
Brings home to your mind a tragical joke 
But add to them all the clouds and the rain, 
'Tis then that you feel the keen, stabbing pain, — 
The pain of a soul when all hope is lost, — 
The thought of a life to nothingness tossed. 
Alone with your thoughts of tiie dead, buried 

past, 
Forgotten by Her, whom you loved till the last. 
With courage far spent, — and he's broke in the 

rain, — 
A man is a man who can take heart again. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 19 



THE BARK OF A DOG 

This chapter of life that I relate 

Was written the winter of Ninety-eight ; 

Scrawled in the frozen nights and days, 

Where the Northern lights glitter and blaze ; 

Where the ice and snow have spread a pall 

Over the land and covered it all ; 

Where the body of man will freeze and rot. 

But the soul of a man is never forgot. 

I was alone on the narrow trail. 

And the wind was blowing a fearful gale. 

The air was filled with a blinding snow 

That chilled the blood 'till it ceased to flow; 

The day was fleeting, the light was dim, — 

For the winter sun was below the rim 

Of the mountains high with their covers of white. 

God, how I dreaded the thought of night ! 

Dreaded the thought of the inky black 

That would wipe out the trail and the snow-shoe 

track, 
For I sensed the battle I'd have to fight, 
To keep from dying that long, cold night. 
You people who live in your world apart, 
With home and friends to warm your heart. 
Warm and secure from the biting frost. 
Can't understand what it means to be lost 



20 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

In the wintry wastes of God's Big Land, 
With freezing feet and frozen hand, 
When the legs on your body slowly tire, 
And you've nary a match to kindle a fire, 
When the night is chasing the fleeting day. 
And the light on the trail grows dim and gray. 
While the thoughts of your past and your wasted 

life 
Pierce through your soul, like the stab of a knife. 

But supposing you can't quite imderstand 
How it feels to be lost in the Northern land. 
There's surely a few who will read these lines 
Who've heard the wind as it wails through the 

pines. 
Who know God's mountains, his trees, and his 

streams. 
And the "Call of the Wild," that's as real as it 

seems. 
The few, while reading, will know, forsooth. 
That the things that I write are only the truth. 

Back to that night then let us return. 
The memory of which will always burn. 
I can yet feel the snow on my freezing face. 
As I blindly sought for the faintest trace 
Of a blaze on a tree that would point the way 
To that cabin of mine 'fore the close of day ; 
But the blaze wasn't there, on fir tree or pine. 
Except where the snow had hidden the sign. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 21 

Afraid ? Well I guess ; I was choked with fear, 
*Cause I knew very well that death was near, 
And I was not ready to cash in my checks. 
For my life was sinful and covered with "specks" ; 
So I fought for my life and I cursed my fate. 
On that cold winter night in Ninety-eight. 
When just as the light gave way to the dark, 
I heard on the wind my dog's deep bark. 

I stopped so sudden I almost fell. 

And from my throat there issued a yell ; 

That carried above the North wind's blast, 

Till it reached Old King, who was chained up 

fast; 
The instant he heard it he started to bark. 
While I followed the sound through the snow and 

the dark, 
'Till I reached the cabin and patted his head. 
There is no use telling the things I said. 

But when I had kindled a roaring fire. 

And the coffee had boiled on the flaming pyre, 

I called Old King and patted his head. 

I'm not ashamed of the tears I shed. 

'Twas his love for me that postponed my fate. 

On that night I was lost in Ninety-eight. 

And there's no sound since, in daylight or dark. 

That ever will sound like that faithful bark. 



22 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



THE SPRINGTIME RAIN 

Hear the rain, hear the rain. 
As it beats upon the pane. 
As it patters on the eaves. 
And rippling, slowly weaves 
A joyous, rhythmic song 
In the hours that move along. 

See the rain, see the rain. 
As it trickles from the pane, 
As it wets the sloping roof, 
And mingles with the woof 
Of the years, with their tears. 
And their never ending fears. 

Springtime rain, Springtinre rain. 
Brings to memory again 
The church bells loudly ringing. 
The mocking birds a-singing, — 
Turning back the flight of time. 
To those happy days sublime. 

Oh the rain, oh, the rain, — 
That I hear and see again, — 
May the song you always sing 
To my mind forever bring 
A vision always clear, 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 

Of the things I loved so dear 
May the feeling that is vain 
Never cause me grief or pain. 
When I hear the tiny patter. 
Of the Springtime rain. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 



A VISION OF THE PAST 

I stood on the peak of the summit 
That divided the woodland trail 
As the sun rose over the mountain 
And brightened the shadows pale. 

I gazed on the scene below me, — 
The river a mile below. 
Winding away through the forest, — 
And I found that my thoughts would flow 

To a land that was long forgotten, 
A place in a city of sighs. 
Where life — a mirage — is seen vaguely. 
Where people are living lies. 

Once more I walked with the many, — 
The men of a two-faced breed, — 
With their fickle aims and their striving 
All bound in a shallow creed. 

The vision then paled and soon faded. 
But never a longing remained 
For the things or the men as I knew them 
Nor the bright, false glamour contained. 

I heard the grouse in the woodland, 
I saw the brown flash of a deer. 
And thanked my God for the Open, 
Where life could be simple and clear. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 25 \ 

THE LOST WATER-HOLE AND THE 

HIDDEN TRAIL ' 

I 

For twenty years I have roamed the world 

And have lived like a rolling stone ; ;» 

I've loafed and idled, I've worked and toiled, ■ 
In the Tropic and Arctic zone. 

I have sweltered out in the blazing sun i 
On the deserts dry of the South ; 
And I've watched the cattle all dying 
Through the months of a stifling drouth. 

I have packed and tied a mining kit i 

On a desert nightingale ; * i 

I have faced the sand-storm's blinding force i 

In a wind that blew a gale. s 

I have scratched the desert's burning sands, ' 

With its lure of cursed gold, J 

And have fought with the deadly norther, j 

With its sleet and its biting cold. | 

I have toiled and I've mucked and I've wandered i 
In the blistering, killing heat. 

With my canteen empty of water, ;; 

And with never a bite to eat. I 



I have felt my tongue all a-swelling, 
And my mouth growing parched and dry. 
As I watched the buzzards soaring 
Far above in the burning sky. 

* Burro, or wild-ass. 



26 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

I have staggered along wastes that blistered. 
In God's naked, forgotten land, 
With my feet all cut and bleeding. 
From the scorching, terrible sand. 

I have cursed the God that's above me. 
And I've damned all my doubting soul, 
As I searched the long-dried-up desert 
For the sight of a water-hole. 

" Then I found it." 

I have labored and toiled in the frozen North, 
With pick and shovel and pan ; 
I have washed the sand of many a creek 
Where a Man is always a Man. 

I have tramped the trails through the virgin 

snow 
With snow-shoes, rifle, and pack, 
And have felt the cold like the stab of a knife. 
As I lay in a trapper's shack. 

I have faced a blizzard that raged and roared 
With the snow clean up to my knees ; 
I have felt my body grow chiU with cold. 
And my hands and my feet would freeze. 

I have mushed with the dogs eight hundred miles 
To a place near the Northern Lights 
And have counted a million gleaming stars 
That shone through the winter nights. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 27 

I have thawed the dirt with a raging fire 
And have dug in the heated ground, 
Panning the mud, the rock, and sand, — 
Though never a color I found. 

I have cursed the cold and the blinding snow. 
The wind, with its whining wail. 
As I searched for a blaze, on the pine and fir. 
And a sign of the long-lost trail. 

"Then I found it." 

The Lost Water-hole and the Hidden Trail, — 

At two extremes of the earth, — 

The finding of which has saved my life. 

And given my faith new birth. 

Dying of thirst in the desert heat. 
Cursing my God and my Soul, 
When aU of the time the hand of Him 
Was drawing me near the Hole. 

Freezing to death in the Arctic wastes. 
With body and soul turned clod. 
Till an unseen Hand has showed me the Trail, 
And made me believe in God. 

Years I have lived in the barren wastes. 
Years in the city's strife. 

But the Lost Water-hole and the Hidden Trail 
Have taught me the lesson of Life. 



28 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

THE HUMAN FOREST 

Men are like trees in a forest ; 
God put them both on the earth. 
Giants are some, — without blemish ; 
Others, — weak saplings at birth. 
Some of them rise above others. 
Reaching a mark that is high. 
Full many grow strong in life's sunshine, 
The weaker in shadows must die. 
Tall trees are shattered by lightning, 
Others are rotten, yet thrive ; 
Many seem shrunken and lifeless, — 
No fruitage to show they're alive. 
Rich though the soil, some will perish. 
With never a reason why ; 
Clinging to rocks, others flourish. 
Towering up to the sky. 
Many are lawless and greedy. 
Taking much more than they need. 
Killing the younger and weaker. 
Destroying the new sprouted seed. 
Yes, men are like trees in a forest. 
And God put them both on the earth. 
And when the day comes for the judging, 
Each will be judged by his worth. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 29 

"OLD DAVE" 

He was old in years, but his spirit was young ; 
Eighty long winters their marks had hung 
When I first heard Dave, in his Scottish tongue. 
Give voice to the song that he always sung. 

"Hoot Mon," says he, "I'm beginnin' to think 
That I'm gettin' too old for my daily drink ; 
So just write this down with a lasting ink, 
'Fore I take the trip 'cross the final brink." 

He'd a tongue that could cut like a skinnin' knife. 
When he talked of the city's whirl and strife. 
Of the woman he'd married and made his wife. 
The one who had caused him to choose this life. 

He told me his story one cold winter night, 
When the moon shone clear with a frosty light 
And the sparkling snow was a beautiful sight, 
Seen through the window so clear and bright. 

The things that he told were seared on my mind, 
For never before had I heard of their kind ; 
They chilled me through like the cold North wind. 
The scenes from his life that he'd left behind. 

"Youngster," he says with his Scottish leer, 
"You'll no doubt think that I'm daft and queer. 
When I speak of the things that I once held dear, 
*Twas, — let me think, — why, it's fifty year ! 



30 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

"Fifty years since the Hand of Fate 
Weaved its threads o'er the things I hate. 
Just fifty years since I wiped from my slate 
The story, lad, of a girl named Kate. 

" I met the lass on a summer's day, 
When heather and roses bordered the way 
That led to the shore of the distant bay. 
Where the poundin' waves filled the air with 
spray. 

" Katie MacNair was the lassie's name. 

Her father, lad, was a man of fame. 

Her mother a blue-blooded Scottish dame, 

And she'd been well raised in her Scottish hame. 

" I wooed her, lad, with a love that burned. 
And I wedded her, lad, before I learned 
That my love for her she had blighted and spurned 
For a no-good chap, to whom she had turned. 

"When I learned she was false, I left her there, — 
Cursing her face with its beauty rare, — 
Damning her, lad, that she did not care, 
Damning the one they called Katie O'Claire. 

" So for fifty years I have led this life. 
Here where the North wind cuts like a knife 
And sings through the trees, like the notes from 

a fife. 
Far from the city's turmoil and strife. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 31 

" I'm tellin' you, lad, what happened to me 
When I was young and happy and free, 
TeUin' you so you can plainly see 
How false a heart can really be." 

Thus spoke Old Dave on that wintry night. 
When the moon shone clear with a frosty light 
And the blanket of snow was a dazzling white, 
In the Big North Land where the world is bright. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 



THE GRAVE OF CARIBOU JOE 

In the western wilds of Montana, 

On a wooded mountain side. 

Where the Kootenai's flowing waters 

Never cease their rapid glide. 

Where the giant pine and tamarack 

In the mountain breezes wave, 

'Neath a mound with bunch-grass overgrown 

Lies Caribou Joe's lone grave. 

Not marked with a marble column, 
No granite head or stone 
Proclaims the mighty hunter 
Who rests therein alone. 
No flowers placed by any hand. 
No mourners there to show. 
No mark except a wooden slab 
Upraised from glistening snow. 

The Bob Tail road a-winding. 
Where the wild deer often tread, 
Leads to the slope of the mountain, 
To the grave where rests the dead. 
And the big red sun, when setting. 
Casts a glow on ledge and cave. 
And leaves a ray of sunshine, 
On Caribou Joe's lone grave. 

Forgotten is he by the many, 
Remembered, alas ! by the few ; 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 33 

He rests on that rugged mountain 
'Neath western skies of blue. 
The pine squirrels scold and chatter. 
And the pheasant drums all day, 
While the woodrats in his cabin 
Seek the empty rooms in play. 

The span of his years were many. 

Up there on the mountain high ; 

With God's real things he companioned 

And hunted beneath the sky. 

The caribou wild and lordly 

He hunted and trapped for game. 

No fear he knew, and his daring 

Won him at last his name. 

Through years that were long and lonely 

He roamed the forest wild. 

From none he sought gift or favor, 

Till the hour before he died ; 

Then he told old Tony Stiver 

That he'd be contented to go 

If he knew he could rest on the mountain, 

With the Kootenai waters below. 



34 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



THE DEAD PACKHORSE 

He died one day on the Pipe Creek trail, 
Where the North wind blew, with a snarl and wail, 
Through the towering pines and the big fir trees 
That crack like guns as they slowly freeze. 

The trail was choked with a heavy snow. 
And the mercury dropped to forty below ; 
We'd packed the critter, twenty miles from town, 
With a heavy load, when he just lay down. 

Collapsed, by gum, with nary a groan. 
And froze in his tracks as hard as stone. 
Two hundred pounds of grub in the pack. 
And forty-two miles to the little log shack. 

Says I to Gabriel, "There's nothin' to do 
But cut the pack just plumb in two, 
A half for me and the same for you ; 
Some load, old man, but we gotta go through. 

" 'Cause the woman and kiddies have got to eat, 
And nothin' they've got but jerked deer meat ; 
For the thieves that busted their cabin door 
Took all their grub that they had in store." 

"Hell's Hounds, them," says Gabriel to me. 
"I'm hopin' they freeze on a broken ski, 
Stealin' the grub from woman and child. 
That's left alone m this Land o' the Wild." 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 35 

Homesteadin' folks was what they were. 

And a no-good hound was the husband of her ; 

He worked in the city at sellin' goods. 

While she and the kiddies were left in the woods. 

We furnished 'em meat, both Gabe and me ; 
Cut 'em their wood from the tamarack tree. 
Dandled the kiddies upon our knees. 
And mudded the cabin so they wouldn't freeze. 

It had been just a week since we'd been to the 

shack. 
And the falling snow had covered each track ; 
But it made no difference to Gabe and me. 
For the blaze on the trees we could plainly see. 

At last we arrived, 'twas half past three. 
And we learned of their plight and their misery ; 
For hours they heard but the storm's cold beat ; 
Not a bite in the cabin for them to eat. 

'Twas sixty-two miles to the nearest place, 
Where they peddled grub, but we set the pace. 
Took the old pack horse and hit the trail. 
Where the snow piles high and the North winds 
wail. 

Two days later we had the snitch 
Packed on the critter with diamond hitch. 
And was buckin' the snow with a feelin' of pride. 
When the packhorse quit and lay down and died. 



36 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

Now two hundred pounds on a horse's back 
Is just about right for a two days* pack ; 
But a hundred pounds on a poor man's back 
Make the shoes go deep in the snow-shoe track. 

And forty-two miles is sure some jaunt, 

When you're thinkin' of them that's starvin' 

and gaunt. 
But Gabe and I made it, as sure as you live, 
With all the comforts we had to give. 

Ain't no use describin' that hike, my friends, — 
The covered white trail with its endless bends, 
The broken thongs on the big snow-shoes. 
Or the tiresome hours when we had the blues. 

It had to be done to save them three. 
And there was none to do it but Gabe and me ; 
'Twas simply the work that a man would do. 
If he had a soul and his mind was true. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 37 

AGES AND AGES AGO 
(To Marie C ) 

You were a Maid and I was a Lad, 

Ages and Ages ago. 
You grew to a Woman and I to a Cad, 

Ages and Ages ago. 
You're still a Woman and I'm still a Cad, 
You are quite happy and I am sad. 
You were sorry and I was glad. 

Ages and Ages ago. 
You have forgotten, but I never will ; 
The memory of you will haunt me still. 
For I always have lacked the spirit and will 
That enables a man a ghost to kill. 

Of Ages and Ages ago. 



8 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

TO AMY 

Another year is dying. 

As I write these lines. 

And my thoughts are trav'hng northward 

To the land of hills and pines ; 

To a place of snow-capped mountains, 

Where the furred things roam at will. 

Where the air with frost is laden, 

And the trails are white and still. 

Where I can see your features 

On the piled-up drifts of snow. 

Where the wind wails through the canyon. 

When it's forty-five below. 

Another year is dying, 
'Twill be dead in just an hour, 
And I'm praying while I'm writing 
For the gods to give me power. 
The power to make my memory. 
Cease to cause me grief and pain. 
The power to put some sunshine 
In my clouded life again. 
The power to conquer longing 
For you, for whom I'm sighing. 
As the time is swiftly fleeting. 
And another year is dying. 
All I ask the gods to give me 
Is forgetfulness, or you, 
While the year is slowly dying. 
And I wait in hope for you. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 39 

THE SHADOW 

My childhood days and days of youth with 

sunshine all were dressed, 
The years I lived in early life with brightness 

all were blessed ; 
My eyes saw only things that were, so pure and 

clean and bright, 
I lived through days of happiness and dreamed 

in peace at night. 

But now a shadow has been cast, that covers all 

with gloom. 
The world that once was bright for me is now a 

living tomb ; 
Things are topsy-turvy in this big old world 

to-day. 
The shadow covers all the world in weird and 

threatening way. 

It's the Shadow cast by child slaves, whose souls 

are ground to dust. 
As their young and growing bodies are used to 

feed some Trust. 
It's the Shadow of the young girl, who gives her 

all for bread, 
Her body, soul, and womanhood, of all life's joys 

are bled. 

It's the Shadow cast by workers, who toil and toil 
and toil. 



40 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

Like mere machines in factories, that wreck and 

stunt and soil ; 
It's the Shadow cast by years of war, the millions 

they are killing. 
The world gone mad, the rivers red with all the 

blood that's spilling. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 41 



TO PADDY W 

A Memory 

Paddy, are you really human. 
Or a ghost that I once met ? 
Are you living in this old world. 
In a place I'll ne'er forget ? 
Can it be that you're existing. 
On this drear old world with me. 
Somewhere in the Northland 
That is dear to memory? 
The years have passed so swiftly. 
Since the night we said good-bye. 
And I know that it is useless. 
When for you I long and sigh. 
Yet I see you always plainly. 
As I knew you long ago. 
In the land of trees and mountains. 
With their gleaming peaks of snow. 
And always will I see you. 
As the years go flitting by. 
And always will your picture. 
Cause a disappointed sigh. 
For I loved you, little Paddy, 
With a love that was sincere. 
But now you've gone forever. 
Like the past days of a year. 



42 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



TO MILDRED'S EYES 

You, Mildred girl, with the dark eyes that shine 
Upon me at times with a look that's divine. 
They cause me to feel that you would be mine 
If I were to ask you. 

You, Mildred girl, with the dark eyes that gleam 
With some fantastic, old world dream 
And make me fear you are not what you seem. 
They make me hesitate to ask you. 

You, Mildred girl, with the dark eyes that mock 
And make you look in your dainty frock, — 
So young and timid and easy to shock, 

Would they melt if I were to ask you ? 

You, Mildred girl, with the dark eyes that tease, — 
The eyes that make me do as you please, — 
The eyes that I worship on bended knees, — 
Would they laugh if I were to ask you ? 

Would they mock ? Would they tease ? 
Would they gleam ? Would they shine ? 
Or would they consent to be really mine ? 

Some day, Mildred dear, I may ask you. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 4S 



BOY O'MINE 

Boy O'mine, if you but knew how crushed I really 

feel. 
How each and ev'ry word you wrote, forced me to 

go and kneel, — 
To pray to God that what you said, was but a jest 

from you. 
For ev'ry word and line I read, my soul pierced 

through and through. 

Boy O'mine, if you could feel as I felt on that 

night. 
When first I read the words, so real, that filled 

my soul with fright. 
You never more would write in jest, to one who 

loves you true ; 
Of all the boys I've loved you best, I'd die, need 

be, for you. 

Boy O'mine, if I but thought my love for you was 

vain. 
That freedom from my love you sought, I could 

not stand the pain. 
Some cord within I know would snap and tears 

would fill my eye. 
For nothing e'er could fill the void, no matter how 

I'd try. 



44 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

Boy O'mine, please write once more, a letter be- 
fore you go. 

Write as you did in days of yore ; it's the truth I 
long to know. 

If what you wrote the other day is true I'll bow 
my head. 

And ask that you for me will pray, because, — 
you'll know I'm dead ! 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 45 



CONFLICTING CALLS 

The call of Love and the call of the Wild, 

Are calling me now to-day. 

Love for the girl I knew when a child. 

And the Wild where I long to play. 

O, the caU of the Wild, 

Always urging me on. 

With its visions of mountains and trees. 

In the Big Out-Doors of God's real land. 

Where men can do as they please ! 

And how can I go to the Big Out-Doors, 

And leave Her whom I love behind ? 

Would not the longing be always there. 

Destroying my peace of mind .'* 

These are the questions I'm asking to-day, — 

Turning them in and out, 

While both of the Calls ring through my heart 

And fill all my mind with doubt 

I listen to love, but I want to be free ; 

(If She only could understand !) 

It might be she would go with me. 

To the woods of the Big Northland. 



46 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



FLICKERING SHADOWS ON THE WALL 

I watched the shadows on the wall. 
Flickering shadows, rise and fall. 
Shadows large and shadows small. 

Shadows cast by burning fire. 
That never seemed to really tire. 
Fleeting shadows of desire. 

My eyes were filled with unshed tears, 
And visions of my wasted years. 
With all their hopes and all their fears. 

But as I watched the smouldering pile. 
Burning past of things worth while, 
Across my face there came a smile. 

It was the thought of you, — a child. 
And your manner meek and mild, 
Taming me when I was wild. 

All the shadows disappeared. 

All the gloomy thoughts were cleared, 

And the worth while things endeared. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 47 



A DREAM 

To-day, while working in my chair, 

I smelled the balmy, Spring-time air. 

And being weary, there o'er me crept 

A drowsy feeling and I slept. 

And while sleeping came a dream; 

I could hear a babbling stream ; 

I could see the water flashing ; 

And the big trout leaping, splashing ; 

I could hear the north wind wail ; 

I could see fhe flag of tail. 

As the wild deer swiftly ran ; 

I could hear the Pipes of Pan ; 

I could see the monster trees. 

Swaying in the gentle breeze. 

I could hear the squirrels chatter 

And the flickers' noisy clatter. 

I could hear the pheasant drumming 

And the wild bee, loudly humming ; 

I could smell the woodland flowers 

Growing in their mossy bowers ; 

I could see the winding trail 

Leading over ridge and dale. 

I fished in riffle and in rills. 

And climbed once more the wooded hills ; 

I could hear the wolf's weird wail. 

And watch the white clouds swiftly sail. 



48 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

I could smell the balsam boughs, 
And hear the lowing of the cows ; 
I could heaj a panther scream. 
That awoke me from my dream. 
Woke, — there in office chair. 
To a life of work and care, 
^Yhere the money-maddened throng 
Seldom hear the Out-Door Song. 
Where they do not feel nor see 
Things as they appear to me. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 49 



WHAT IS — IS 

You can read every day of the men. 

Who have climbed by their faith in Self, 

Until they have finally reached 

A place on the uppermost shelf. 

You can read every day of the men. 

In every clime and land. 

The ones who have failed and lost. 

Who lay the blame in Fate's hand. 

Can the man who has climbed to the highest, 

On the Mountains of Honor in life, 

Understand the miserable failure 

Of the one in the Valley of Strife ? 

Can the one who has struggled, then faltered. 

The one who has lost every hope. 

Understand the one who's succeeded 

In climbing Life's steepest slope ? 

There are men who are famous musicians, 

There are men who know how to think, 

Still others are wonderful artists. 

With pencil, crayon or ink. 

But no matter the name nor the talent. 

That happens a man to adorn, 

You can rest assured and it's certain. 

It's a gift with which he was born. 

No matter what brand of Failure, 



\} RHYMES IN KHAKI 

Be it finance or law or just sport. 
If the man is born a Failure, 
He will live the life of his sort. 

It is the Law of the Universe, truly, — 
Regardless of sayings and creed, — 
That some of us must be the failures. 
While some are sure to succeed. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 51 



TO GRACE B- 



You, Grace, with the bright blue eyes, 

Clear blue eyes of wondrous size, 

Eyes that shine with the purest light. 

Reflecting a soul of lily white, 

You with the ever present smile. 

You who believe in things worth while. 

You who are very young in years. 

You who have never shed the tears. 

That come to the eyes of womankind. 

When love in their hearts some day they find ; 

Yours and mine is a friendship real, 

A feeling rare we are proud to feel. 

And always, Grace, when I think of you, 

I'm asking God's help in all I do. 



52 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



THE NORTH WEST'S VOICED 

I heard the Voice of the Big North West, in 

the Voice was a message clear. 
And the steaming fogs on the hillsides, parted as 

it drew near. 
It spoke of the trails now hidden, it whispered 

of mountains high. 
Of river sands, where men with their hands, pan 

for gold until they die. 
It chanted of big pine forests, where the white- 
tail lived and the bear. 
Where the blue grouse bred, on the high hill's 

head, where the coyote has his lair. 
It breathed of the bright aurora, that shone 

with a million lights. 
As it brightened the snow, where the North 

winds blow, chill on the winter nights. 
It crooned of the babbling mountain streams, 

the riffles where big trout play. 
Of their wonderous size, as they jump for flies, 

in the cool of the summer day. 
It hummed its praise, of the wonderful days, 

in the land of the mid-night sun, 

^ To those who have lived in the Big North West among 
the Big Trees and the Big Mountains, the Voice of that 
country has been heard and always has the Voice sung and 
spoken of wonderful things that bring contentment to the 
Heart of Man. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 53 

Of the gorgeous flowers, in their woodland bowers, 

and the webs that the spiders spun, 
O, it sung of the gold and silver, the copper and 

precious stones. 
Of the caribou and the Red Man too, the tamarack 

needles and cones. 
Of wood-peckers pounding the hollow trees, 

the shriek of the eagle bold, 
The black-tail deer and the big grey wolf, that 

hunts when the nights are cold. 
Of a wonderful strand, in a glacier land, of 

gleaming mountains of snow. 
Of the wintry gales, that fill all the trails, when 

it's forty or fifty below. 
Of birch canoe and the rapids too, of rivers that 

swiftly glide. 
Singing their song, as they rush along, to join 

the ocean tide. 
O, the voice grows louder and louder as it falls 

on my listening ears. 
It is filled with a joyous sadness, 'tis moistened 

with women's tears ; 
Once more I am craving to wander, once more I 

am longing to roam. 
On the North West track, with snow shoe and 

pack, the voice is calling me home. 
'Tis the voice that has called me onward, the 

voice of forest and hill. 
And it always will call, 'til I end it all, for the 

voice has a conquering will. 



54 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



TO THE ALLIED SOLDIERS "OVER 
THERE" 

They are holding the hnes on the bloody West, 
Fighting the Germans, breast to breast, 
'Gainst the naked steel and the bursting shell. 
They are holding the line on the crater of Hell, 
The line they are holding is red with blood, 
The battle-scarred line is a crimson flood. 
Men are dying to stem the tide 
Of the Cultured legions, the Kaiser's pride. 
The plains of Picardy with blood are red. 
And the field of battle is covered with dead. 
They are holding the lines 'gainst the German 

horde. 
Keeping them back with the naked sword. 
On the blood-soaked fields, where the shrapnel 

whines, 
The men of the allies are holding the lines. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 55 



DEDICATED TO QUENTIN ROOSEVELT 

Youngest son of ex-President of the United States 
— Theodore Roosevelt — who gave his Ufe for the 
" Great Cause." 

" Youngest son of an illustrious father, 
You who gave your life 
For the ' Great Cause, ' 
You who died far above the earth 
While guiding your winged chariot 
Against the enemy of the world. 
Your name will always live 
In the country that gave you birth. 
Your memory will always be cherished 
By the free peoples of the world. 
Your comrades in arms will tell of how you died 
To their sons and to their grandsons. 
How you went forth to engage the enemy, 
How you met and fought them. 
How you were killed in action. 
They will speak of your youth. 
Of how the blood of your father 
And the spirit of freedom. 
The pluck, endurance, and pure American grit 
Made you a real American, 
Showed you the path you were to tread 
And enabled you to do 
All that a man can do 



56 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

For his country, for the freedom 

And the Democracy of the World. 

' Killed in Action, Quentin Roosevelt, 

Age twenty years — a real American.' 

Always will these words bring a thrill 

To those who read them during the years to come. 

And the Gold Star on the Service flag 

Will never lose its lustre 

As long as the world endures." 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 57 



THE ROADS OF THE WORLD 

The roads of the world are Varied Roads 
And some of us tread them all — 
The Long Roads and the Short Roads, 
Wherever we heed the call. 

Some of the Roads are Smooth Roads, 
Broad and level and straight. 
Perfect as Man can make them. 
Aided by God and Fate, 

Some of the Roads are Sad Roads, 
Paved with sorrow and fear. 
Filled with the ghosts of blasted hopes. 
And sprinkled with many a tear. 

Some of the Roads are Gay Roads, 
Filled with laughter and song. 
Paved with the smiles of the Happy, 
And the joy of the carefree throng. 

Some of the Roads are Long Roads, 
Crossing the Desert of Life, 
Filled with the bleached and scattered bones 
Of those who have died in the strife. 

Some of the Roads are Short Roads, 
Shaded by wonderful trees 
Where Man may rest himself betimes 
And spend glad hours at ease. 



58 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

Some of the Roads are Evil Roads, 
Ending where they begin, 
Paved with blocks of Hypocrisy, 
Shaded by trees of sin. 

Some of the Roads are Good Roads, 
Built by a Master Hand, 
Winding away for miles and miles 
Till they reach the Promised Land. 

All of the Roads are Branch Roads, 
Leading away from the Main. 
We may tread them all before we die 
But we all must come back again — 

Back to the Big and Royal Road 
'Fore ever we come to die, 
For this is the Road of Life and Death 
Of the How and the When and the Why. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 59 



A TALK WITH MY BETTER SELF 

Last night I talked to my Better Self, 

As I sat in my soft arm chair. 

Watching the flames in the big fireplace 

Flicker and smoulder and flare. 

Says I to myself, my Better Self, 

Why is it you're runted and small 

When you really should be as big as I 

Who am healthy and six feet tall ? 

Why is it you're so crippled and dried 

When you should be as rugged as I, 

Does the body and mind — the conscious kind 

Entreat you to wither and die ? 

You say I have starved you and treated you bad 

While stacking the cards in the pack, 

That I've kicked you and cuffed you most of the 

time. 
And stabbed you at times in the back. 
You say you have pleaded and begged for a 

chance 
When I blustered and bluffed and lied. 
That when I chose "wine, women and song" 
I said that I hoped you soon died. 
You say that my treatment of you has been 

harsh. 
That I've quit you for days and for years. 
That the things I have done and the things I 

have said 



60 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

Have filled you with sorrow and fears. 

You say that you know you could grow to my 

size, 
And wear the same clothes that I wear. 
If I only would treat you as if you were real 
And show that I truly did care. 
Says I to myself, my Better Self, 
Last night as I sat by the fire, 
I'm believing forsooth that you do speak the 

truth. 
So I'm going to grant your desire. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 61 



CAN YOU BLAME A MAN FOR 
DOUBTING? 

Can you blame a man for doubting 
There's a God above the Sky, 
When his planted crops are frozen, 
And he sees his cattle die ? 

Can you blame a man for doubting 
There's a watching God above, 
When death stalks through his household, 
Killing faith and hope and love ? 

Can you blame a man for doubting 
There's a God who really cares. 
When Fate with all her venom 
Blocks everything he dares ? 

Can you blame a man for doubting 
There's a God who guides his feet. 
When his wife and babes are starving. 
And he's nothing more to eat ? 

Can you blame a man for doubting 
There is any God at all. 
When all his plans and cherished hopes 
In ruins about him fall ? 

Can you blame a man for doubting 
There is any God but Thor, 



62 RHYMES IN KHAKI 

When all the nations in the world 
Are waging bloody war ? 

Can you blame a man for doubting 
There's a God who calls the roll 
And calling finds the doubter 
And damns his very soul ? 

You can blame a man for doubting 
There's a God, I will admit ; 
But you can't blame him for doubting 
That He cares one little bit 

For the Humans on His big world. 
More than any other kind. 
If you blame a man for doubting. 
Why you must be very bHnd. 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 63 



I MUST 

Now that I have gone away from you. 

My dear, my dear, 
I must not think or grieve for you. 

My orders must be clear. 

When I am in those warring lands 

I must do my part. 
The work will fill my head and hands. 

But not my heart. 

I must be strong when I am there, 

I must be brave. 
No thought of you to bring me care 

For what I gave. 

Yet through months of days and nights. 

Where'er I go. 
My eyes must be bhnded by unfamihar sights. 

Thank God you will not know. 

I must appear content where men can see, 

Laugh where they can hear. 
They must not know the sorrow that consumes 
me. 

My dear, my dear. 



64 RHYMES IN KHAKI 



THE EAST WIND'S VOICE 

To-day I rested neath an oak 

And listened to the wind that spoke. 

And as I hstened words quite clear 

Were by the wind spake in my ear. 

"I am the East wind blowing free, 

I've traveled miles across the sea, 

I've come from where men take a chance 

Upon the fields of Sunny France. 

The mighty shell that whines and sings 

I've carried far upon my wings ; 

The singing whining shrapnel shells 

That carry pain and death 

Have hurtled through my strongest gusts 

With deadly-fatal breath. 

The star flares and the colored lights, 

I've tossed and hurled about 

Until they dimmed and flickered. 

Then sputtered and went out. 

Across the bloody battle fields 

I've blown day and night 

Upon a million struggling men 

Who fought with all their might. 

I've fanned the hot and fevered face 

Of many a wounded man 

Whose blood was dried and caked 

Upon his face of tan. 

I've shaken tents where surgeons toiled 



RHYMES IN KHAKI 65 ' 

With Red Cross nurses brave 

Who worked beneath the shot and shell | 

A soldier's life to save. * 

O'er No Man's Land I've shrieked and roared '' 

And whipped the falling rain | 

Upon the wounded as they lay ■ 

Moaning aloud with pain. ' 

Across the Channel o'er the sea 

I've journeyed day and night : 

To call the men of Uncle Sam 

To bid them go and fight. i 

To you who rest beneath this tree < 

Far from the pain of It, 

I bring a message — a command — , 

Arise and do your bit." 



Seaver-HowunoPkess 

871 Franklin St. 

'BOSTOJ/ 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper pro 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

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